


Sammelan

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Mahabharata fics [3]
Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Baby Abhimanyu, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, Oneshot, Siblings, an unholy amount of nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 21:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: The Upapandavas talk after the Vastraharan. Oneshot.





	Sammelan

**Author's Note:**

> I know that the Upapandavas were probably a lot younger when the Vastraharan occurred, but I wanted them to be old enough to have a serious conversation about it. It’s also a little less painful to think of teenagers/almost-adults being left behind by their parents; not much better, but at least they are old enough to understand why exile is more important.
> 
> I’ve also included Suthanu and Pragati, two daughters Draupadi gave birth to according to some sources. Below are the ages, parentages, and nicknames I assigned them. (I know some of them are awful, but would you rather have four characters all with the prefix “Shrut”?)
> 
> Prativindhya & Suthanu, Yudhisthir, age 16  
> Sutasoma (Soma), Bheem, 15  
> Shrutakarma (Rudra) & Pragati, Arjun, 14  
> Shatanika (Anish), Nakul, 13  
> Shrutasena (Tasena), Sahadev, 12  
> Abhimanyu, Arjuna & Subhadra, 3
> 
> Title means “conference” in Hindi.

They gather in the sitting room like kings conferencing over war plans. Even Anish and Tasena, the youngest brats, made no protests when the oldest of the Upapandavas called a sibling summit meeting. One story after another has been pouring in from Hastinapur, almost tumbling over themselves in their haste to reach the ears of any and all. They spend a good length of time cobbling together all the rumors, until they have amassed something akin to the truth, ugly and vile in its authenticity, and lapse into silence.

“Had I been there, I would have stopped it,” Suthanu finally speaks. Her eyes are downcast, her voice lowered, but the set of her jaw firm. “I would have shielded her with my own body. I would have torn off my sari and let her wear it if it came to that. I would have done _something_ , unlike everyone else.”

“You can drop that tone,” her twin warns. “Father was only adhering to dharma. Dharma is not child’s play-- it can compel you to do things that go against your wishes.”

Tasena gawks at him. “Where in all the three worlds was dharma in _that_?” Everyone else is looking at Prativindhya with similar expression.

Prativindhya is long used to being designated the insufferable righteous eldest brother, and brushes off their looks. “Dharma governs everything Father does. You’re simply too young to understand the finer points of it.” 

“Suthanu Didi is your age, and she disagrees with you,” Tasena counters.

“No, Prativindhya Bhai is right.” Suthanu re-knots her sari deftly, eyes never leaving her hands. “I don’t know anything about dharma. As a woman, my mind is far too feeble to do so. I know nothing of honor, or dice, or gambling. What I do know is that when wisdom and the best men in the kingdom converged, a woman beyond reproach was humiliated, and no one lifted a finger. Does that sound like dharma to you?”

There is a static burst of silence at the end of this tirade, broken only by Suthanu’s heavy breathing as she meets her twin brother’s eyes squarely. He holds her challenging gaze for a long second before breaking it. Suthanu’s chin lifts in triumph. “Father was wrong. Wrong and disgraceful.”

“Would you ever gamble us away?” Soma is a hulking, strapping figure; having inherited his father’s muscle, he is the tallest of them all, including over Prativindhya, and the menace in his tone only makes him more imposing. “As the eldest brother, it’s certainly your right.”

“Never,” says Prativindhya loftily. “But it was within Father’s purview.”

“Don’t you know what would have happened if the Kauravas won?” Tasena’s eyes are wide. “We wouldn’t have been royalty anymore. We would have lost the palace, the coffers, the people, the horses…” He trails off, unable to imagine a worse calamity: he is the youngest, and enjoys fine living like his father Sahadev.

Pragati finally speaks. “Do you really think that’s the worst thing that we could have lost?” She doesn’t wait for an answer.

“Suthanu and I would have been even worse off than the lot of you. Men have a bedrock of honor that they can always fall back on-- but we, as women, would be like seed thrown to the wind. Do you have any idea what happens to female slaves?” She tangles her fingers in her hair, haunted by agitation and thoughts of what might have been. 

“And that’s what would have happened to Mother, had the miracle not happened.” That is Rudra, his countenance knotted in deep-seated anger. He is his father’s son, already rearing for a good fight against the Kauravas. “No wonder Father vowed to kill that sutaputra.” At a disapproving look from Prativindhya, he insists, “It’s true. The story goes that Mother wouldn’t let him participate at her swayamvara, and look what happened at Hastinapur. No wonder she didn’t want him! I hope I get to see the day Father destroys that AngaRaj.”

“And when my father breaks the thigh of that Duryodhan, and brings his brother’s blood for Mother to wash her hair in,” Soma adds. “I’d like to see that.”

They are quiet for a moment, relishing in the gruesome images of revenge on the battlefield. Then Anish finally pipes up. “Karna  said such awful things about Mother. He called her a whore with five husbands, and an arrogant woman -- he even asked her, ‘How can you know which child has which father?’”

“Ridiculous!” Prativindhya says. “The code of conduct -- one year with each husband --” 

“Not everyone is the grandson of truth like you are,” Anish drawls, “and pure and simple of heart and mind.”

“ _Don’t,_ ” Prativindhya says, eyes closed, “insult Father like that.”

“For all that you want to defend him,” Suthanu says, “it was Mother who won us back our freedom. If not for her we’d be the children of slaves.”

“Enough of that,” Anish says. “What I don’t understand is how all the elders could just sit by and do nothing. How could Grandsire do that, and all the sages? How could anyone want to hurt Mother like that?”

A hush comes over them. It is normal to them, to have one mother and several different fathers, but they have always been vaguely aware that the outside world does not look as kindly upon this fivefold system. 

Rudra finally talks. “There are rumors of a second dice game.”

“Of course there will be.” Prativindhya again, always having to show off. “The Kauravas have been thwarted, and are strategizing.”

“The general consensus is that Father Yudhisthira will agree.”

“WHAT!” Prativindhya nearly falls off the couch. 

“Oh, you know what your father is like.” Rudra is snickering. “ _So_ committed to dharma as he is, how could he defy an order from his poor own blind uncle…”

Prativindhya shakes his head. “He’s honorable, not stupid. Surely he knows the Kauravas have nothing good up their sleeves.”

Tasena is smirking as well. “Never thought I’d see the day you insult your precious father!”

“This is deadly serious,” Pragati snaps. “Don’t take low blows like that. 

Rudra and Tasena sink back onto their couches, and silence reigns in the room until--

“What will happen to us if there is a second dice game?” That’s Anish, hoarse and quiet.

“Calm down,” Tasena says sagely. “Even if Indraprastha is afflicted, there is still Paanchal and Dwarka. I doubt Uncle Dhristadyumna and Uncle Krishna will let anything happen to us.”

Right as the Yadava king’s name is invoked, a clatter of footsteps sounds louder and louder in the corridor, and Abhimanyu charges right into the living room. He is taken aback only for a second to find all his elder siblings present, and then heads straight to his full siblings.

“Pragati Didi! Rudra Bhaiyya!”

The Upapandavas break into smiles, despite themselves. He has finally learned that he has more than one Bhaiyya and one Didi, and if he wants them to know who he is talking to, he must use their name as well. He climbs up into their laps, only to leap into another of his big bhai’s laps, and it’s apparent what game he wants to play. They automatically catch him as he jumps, continuing to talk.

“Whether there is a second dice game,” Soma is talking, “there _will_ be war. I doubt Father and Uncle Arjuna will stand by again and let their oaths go unbroken.”

“I hope so,” Anish says. “It would be unfair to expect Mother to do all the work herself.”

“Who said Mother has to do all the work herself?” Rudra asks. “We are not children anymore -- we are young kshatriyas, old enough to be married--” Abhimanyu leaps into his lap, crowing with delight “-- if it were not for the Kauravas’ interfering--” Abhimanyu moves to Pragati’s lap again.

“If there is war--” and Abhimanyu is back again “-- we will be ready for it. For a war there will be. No one insults my mother and gets away with it.”

There is another commotion of footsteps outside, and then a very harassed-looking Ma Subhadra comes in. “So this is where the rascal is! And--” she sees the Upapandavas, all together in one room. “Why are you all here?”

“Merely talking about… matters,” Prativindhya offers unconvincingly.

Ma Subhadra sags. “Very well. As long as you aren’t bothering Ma Draupadi.”

“My children could never bother me.”

Suthanu’s skin prickles with sudden apprehension as Mother comes into the room, stately as ever and fragranced with lotuses. Abhi leaps off of Rudra’s lap to greet his stepmother, bowing to touch her feet before leaping up to wrap her in a hug. Mother is unprepared for the impact, and in the struggle, Abhimanyu inadvertently ends up yanking her sari down. 

The Upapandavas suck in a collective breath. Mother turns white and snatches her sari back, dislodging Abhimanyu’s grip on her. Ma Subhadra scoops him up and is about to smack him, when Mother lays a gentle hand on her wrist. Their eyes meet in a silent battle of wills, before Ma Subhadra relents.

No one speaks, and Suthanu tries desperately not to look at Mother’s unbound hair, streaming down her shoulder.

Mother takes control, as she has always been able to do. “Why are you all here? Conferencing like you are about to go to war?” 

Her smile is thin, and no one laughs. Then she turns her head to the door, as though expecting someone else to join them.

The Pandavas file into the room, with no ceremony or pomp. Suthanu shifts uncomfortably; the room is suddenly very full.

“We are going to Hastinapur,” Father Yudhisthira announces blandly. “An invitation to play dice from Maharaj Dhritarashtra.”

The Upapandavas exchange looks of dismay. Exactly what they feared--

Mother is silent, but Suthanu can feel the heat of her simmering rage, even on the other side of the room. Her pressed lips, her averted gaze, but also the air of resignation about her. She cannot even look at her husbands, and Suthanu suddenly remembers the way Mother worded her boons to the blind king: “Free my husbands so that my sons will not be called slaves.”

She had not asked because she could not bear to see them in servitude, or because it was dharma, or because the game had been unfair. She had only spoken of her children.

Is that all that binds her to her husbands now? Will their lives be like this, yoked together by duty rather than love, the memory of their inaction forever a vice around her throat? She cannot blame her.

Suthanu wonders, impulsively, if she took a vow to leave her own hair unbound, would Mother feel better? Pragati could do the same…

“I have come to say goodbye as well, before I leave for Hastinapur.”

The Upapandavas glance at each other again-- Mother is accompanying them, after what happened last time? It is not out of love or affection or even loyalty that calls Mother, Suthanu thinks, but rage.

Mother and their fathers are turning to leave when Suthanu rises sharply and crosses the room in a few strides. The queen of queens turns, only to find that her daughter is touching her feet. Then all the Upapandavas are doing so, taking their parents’ blessings, and Suthanu glances up to meet her mother’s gaze. Their demeanors are casual, almost crisp, but somehow, she wordlessly communicates with her mother that she knows this is no ordinary visit, that nothing good awaits them in Hastinapur. Mother nods, slowly, grimly.

“We will be staying in Hastinapur for only a short time,” Mother smiles. “There is no need to fret.”

And Suthanu suddenly realizes there is no need for her to unbind her hair. Somehow, indefinably, surely, she _knows_ that her mother will be-- okay-- alright-- fine. Draupadi is born of fire. She is not a normal woman, who collapses when other women would have broken long ago. Something else sustains her, something not of this world, and to mimic her gesture would only cheapen it.

The Pandavas turn, and this time they are really leaving for good. Ma Subhadra watches them leave with unshed tears in her eyes, Abhimanyu in her arms.

Prativindhya crosses over to her and holds out his arms. Gratefully, she passes her youngest into his arms. “I believe the cooks have prepared dinner,” Prativindhya announces. “Would that we all eat together.”

He swings Abhi onto his hip, and with that, they march to the kitchens, close together.

**Author's Note:**

> Suthanu survived the war and went on to marry Swarabhanu, Krishna and Satyabhama’s son. According to some sources, Pragati married a sage. In versions where they exist, they are the only children of the Pandavas to survive. 
> 
> Hopefully I managed to give all the kids a distinctive personality, even if it was just a few hints. I didn’t want them to become carbon copies of their parents, nor did I want them to completely badmouth them.


End file.
